


The Oath of Dane

by hawkeward



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Dragon Age Prompt Generator, Gen, Pre-Dragon Age: Origins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 21:37:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkeward/pseuds/hawkeward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragon Age Prompt Generator fic, "Witherfang/Knight-Commander Greagoir; Broken Faith"</p><p>A young Greagoir encounters a peculiar wolf while searching for a maleficar in the Brecillian forest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Oath of Dane

_But some things cannot be repent,_  
 _Some coinage cannot be unspent,_  
 _When hearts are wagered, a fissure rent._  
— Dane and the Werewolf

—

It was no normal wolf pack. That much was clear.

He had come to the forest with his first command, tasked with the pursuit of a maleficar hiding deep in the woods—a human, not an elf from the wandering clans frequenting the area, and therefore the Order's responsibility. The scouts had reported signs of wolves in the area, but none of them man-killers, despite the frigid winter.

They were wrong.The pack appeared from nowhere—from the shadows of trees, from pristine drifts of snow. They were unlike anything he had ever fought, frenzied creatures of unbridled rage, clawing and tearing with the ferocity of demons. His men were caught with swords still in scabbards and shields still slung across their backs, overwhelmed in moments by the weight of furred bodies on armor and the pressure of fangs on throats.

And then, just as quickly, they were gone. Five good men dead, and him trampled into the snow and left with a deep bite in his thigh that leaked quickly and inexorably through his makeshift bandage.

That was when the white wolf came.

It picked its way across the blood-churned snow without fear—though what wolf would fear a crippled man, his fellows lying slain beside him?—coming close enough that he could see the clouds of breath from its snout. He tried to move away, feet scrabbling for purchase against slicked frozen ground, each push a stab of pain that made his head spin.The wolf watched him, waiting indulgently until he exhausted himself. When his struggles ceased and he lay gasping a shamefully short distance away, it approached again. He looked around wildly, seeking some escape, and found himself again surrounded by the pack. They ringed him and the white wolf loosely, twitching and pacing and cutting off any avenue to safety. The white wolf took no notice, but nosed delicately at the blood-soaked rag around his thigh, sniffing the wound beneath it.

Then it spoke, and he wanted to cringe and cower and clap his hands over his ears. If demons whispered, this was a shout—like the piercing howl of a wolf, of course, but also the shriek of the rabbit in its jaws, the roar of wind through leaves, the crack of ice on a frozen lake, the churning of worms deep in the ground. And beneath it all, a vibration like blood rushing in his ears, making every fiber of his muscles hum, every bone ache. Whatever stood before him was powerful, perhaps beyond knowing.

 _The bite is deep, but free of the Curse,_ it said. _You may yet die, but you will die a man._

One of the circling beasts growled, but the white wolf took no notice. _They tell me you and these others are mage-hunters, seeking the blood of the man who shelters in these woods._

"Demon," he gasped, "I deny you—you will not have me while I yet live nor, Maker preserve me, after..."

A chorus of snarls and low howls rippled through the ring. The white wolf began to stalk around him, measured steps that took it out of his field of vision even as he tried to twist to follow it. _I do not seek your death, huntsman, nor your soul, but the pack has an arrangement with this mage. I will not break faith with him._

The howls increased in volume and frenzy. Several of the creatures lunged toward him, jaws snapping, kicking up snow, only to subside to their places in the ring as he flinched. Bared fangs glinted all around, stark white against snouts still wet and dark with the blood of his men.

 _I offer a bargain,_ the wolf continued. _See to it that the mage is no longer hunted, and we will allow you to leave this place with your life._ Its hot breath snorted into his ear from behind, making him start. _I will even give you my word that he will not leave the forest while we yet guard it. It is a simple thing—his mind is all but gone, he wishes only to be left alone._

It paced back into view, its circle completed, and stared at him with huge, yellow eyes. _Refuse, and any of your kind who enter my domain will die._

The ring of wolves fell silent, an anticipatory hush that settled on him like a weight, pressing him down into the churned snow. What did such a bargain matter, as he lay dying? And yet the wolf seemed to think he would live to see his fellows again, if he forswore his duty this once. Otherwise... the wetness around the wolves' mouths glimmered darkly.

He finally spoke, a single word that should have filled him with shame, but instead left him feeling oddly empty. Only this once.

"Agreed."

The white wolf held his gaze for a long moment, a searching, piercing stare that would have made him squirm, had he dared. Finally it snorted and dipped its head. _Safe travels, huntsman,_ it said. _Keep your word, and we will not meet again._

He did not know how long he lay there after they left. Time was measured in heartbeats and ragged breaths and silent prayers, in the inexorable growth of the red stain on the snow beneath him.

When he next became aware, sunlight was filtering through the trees and someone was shaking him, gauntleted hand clanking against his battered armor. "Maker's mercy, he's alive," a voice said above him. A _human_ voice, and sounding in his ears, not his head. "Fetch the healer!"

His vision swam, but he managed to focus on the armored figure leaning over him. "Stay with us, Ser Greagoir," the man said. "You're the only one to survive, Maker guide the others to His side. What happened? Did you complete the mission? Is the maleficar dead?"

The forest suddenly seemed incredibly quiet, silent and watchful as the Void. He thought, for a moment, that he glimpsed a smear of white fur and yellow eyes against the trees."Yes," Greagoir rasped, his voice weak, and let his head fall back as they lifted him.


End file.
